Page 7 of The Tempting of a Devilish Lord

Lucinda snatched her sister’s arm. “You will not. What if you twist an ankle and I have to cart you down the hill somehow?”

“I will not twist an ankle. My ankles are exceedingly strong.”

“And you are exceedingly prone to injury.”

“Very well.” Mary-Anne jumped down from the rock. “You go instead.”

“Or we just return home.”

“Are you scared?”

Lucinda fixed her sister with a look. “Of a rock? Hardly.”

“Well, then you go.”

Lucinda peered up at the large slabs. They looked conquerable but young ladies did not spend time climbing giant rocks in search of castle ruins that may or may not only exist in Mrs. Gleeson’s head.

“Please, Lucy. Otherwise we came all this way for nothing.”

She exhaled slowly. “Oh, very well.” Once she had confirmed there was nothing of interest, they could return in one piece.

She clambered her way to the top, rather wishing she had at least removed her bonnet and handed it to Mary-Anne when a strong gust threatened to tear it from her head. Once she reached the final slab, she paused, drew in a long breath and smiled.

“Goodness.”

“Do you see anything?”

“No castles,” she called down to her sister. But what a view it was. She supposed allowing her sister to bully her into the climb had not been so terrible. Below, the lakes and hills were spread out like a feast for her senses. It was hard to believe a lake could be so large, splitting the scenery almost into two.

Another gust of wind tore around her, sending ribbons into her face and her skirts wrapping around her ankles. She put out a hand to steady herself but there was nothing to snatch at and she lost her footing a little, wavering for a movement.

“Eeek.” To save herself from toppling over, she dropped hard onto her rear, lest the wind tear her from it entirely. A hand to her chest, she felt the rapid thud of her heart and grimaced at what was likely going to be a bruised bottom.

“Is everything all right?” her sister called, her voice scarcely audible above the gale. “It’s getting frightfully windy.”

Lucinda grimaced and pressed herself up from the rock to peer down the path she had taken. “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

She grimaced. “I’m not certain I can get down.”

Chapter Three

Alex narrowed his gaze and drew his horse to a slow stop. Wonderful. Now he was hearing women on the wind. Considering the level of noise coming from the village this afternoon, perhaps their voices had carried.

They were all still there. In the shops, the tea room, out on the lake. Swarms of them, young and old. According to Mrs. Jones, some bloody bright young chap had written of the town and the healing nature of the air. Now every woman in Christendom had descended upon it.

There was nothing healing about the place. Yes, the air was a darn sight cleaner than London but no more so than any other village in England. The man had practically sold snake oil to the women of England.

He clenched his jaw. If it were any other time, he wouldn’t complain one jot. But not right now. He could not afford to be distracted. It might have been his mother’s tears that persuaded him to come to Langmere but there was no doubting the rumors of Miss Kingsley’s state and whoever put her in such a situation had encouraged him to agree with her. He’d already suffered lectures from a few friends and one of his regular lovers had even refused to meet him. This whole business was ruining his fun.

Before he ordered his horse on, the sound reached him again. Definitely feminine and certainly not coming from town. He wasn’t hearing things.

He twisted in the saddle and scanned the hills, finally spotting a lone figure upon Salt Rock, one of the largest rock formations in the area. He closed his eyes briefly. What the devil was a woman doing all the way up there? He’d climbed it many times as a boy and even without the encumberment of skirts and corsets, it was no easy ascent.

Of course, he could turn around and head home. Pretend he had not seen anything. If some old crone wanted to climb a rock, who was he to stop her? However, from the wailing sound carrying on the wind, it did not sound as though the woman was too happy about her predicament. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped Beau with his heels.

“Looks like we should go and play rescuer.”

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